


All Good Things

by cordeliadelayne



Category: Primeval
Genre: Getting Together, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Ryan has the patience of a saint, Slow Build, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 21:59:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7240102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stephen is clearly having trouble readjusting after Helen's revelations and Ryan finds himself wanting to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Good Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nietie](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nietie).



> Written as a Christmas present for the lovely nietie, who gave the prompt “tools of the trade”.
> 
> Originally posted to Livejournal in 2014.

Stephen was quietly cleaning his gun when Ryan entered the armoury. It was his first day back on active duty since the predator attack had left him near death. He hadn't been there for Helen's revelations, but the ARC gossip mill hadn't been slow on updating him. He knew all about Stephen's dirty laundry, and why it wasn't a surprise to find him so intently focused on his task.

“At least I don't have to remind _you_ to take care of your weapon,” Ryan observed conversationally. He moved over to the rack of guns and began inspecting them. “Some of Becker's lads look like they don't know which end the bang comes out of.”

Stephen huffed a laugh that seemed to take him by surprise, judging by how quickly he clamped down on it.

Ryan carried on with his routine, sighing softly to himself at doing something so familiar. One of the first things a soldier learned during firearms training was the proper care to take with their weapon. It wasn't all about shooting holes in cardboard, a gun that jammed because it hadn't been serviced properly could put you or your team in the hospital, if not the ground. And at some point this week he was going to have to emphasise that to Becker's lads without making it seem like he was trying to take over.  
  
“He goes for a curry on Fridays, with the others,” Stephen said. “Becker, I mean. If you want to talk to him...” He trailed off and ducked his head when Ryan turned to look at him. Ryan had forgotten how in sync they'd become after only a few months.

“Thanks. Maybe I will.” Then he hesitated, wondering whether he should say anything, before deciding that anything that affected team dynamics came under his purview of team leader as well. “You go to these curry nights too, don't you?”

Stephen shrugged, but didn't raise his head to meet Ryan's eyes. “I don't want to cause any trouble.”

Before Ryan could think of a response that didn't sound creepy or patronising, Stephen had put away his weapon and slipped out of the room.

* * * * *

Ryan had been in jungles before, for work and for pleasure, but he'd never seen anything quite like this.

“How far back are we?”

“Probably 2,000 years or so. Hardly any time at all, really.”

Stephen must have realised how blasé he sounded because he chanced a small grin at Ryan, who eagerly returned it. It was good to see Stephen smile again, if only briefly.

They both reached for their knives and continued to work in sync, cutting a path through the undergrowth that would allow Connor to take some readings and Cutter very unsubtly try to impress Jenny.

“Do you think he's ever going to ask her out on a date?” Ryan asked, taking a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“I've already told Jenny she's going to have to be the one to make the first move,” Stephen said. Ryan tried to keep the surprise off his face; he hadn't realised the two of them had become friends. He was glad that Stephen was talking to someone though. And he absolutely wasn't jealous that that someone wasn't him.

“Drink?” Stephen asked. Ryan nodded and took a long drink of the now lukewarm water. He watched as Stephen did the same, and if his thoughts drifted a little towards imagining biting that long throat well, he'd easily take out his frustrations on the jungle lying before them.

* * * * * *

Ryan hated paperwork. And he was beginning to suspect that Lester just made up forms to fill in for the hell of it.

“What the hell is an ARC91-BH and why the fuck does it need to be in triplicate?”

He honestly hadn't expected any answer, and he'd all but forgotten that Stephen was in the IT room too, doing some of his own paperwork.

“Health and safety. One for Lorraine, one for the Health and Safety Executive and one for the Minister.”

Ryan pushed back his chair from the desk and stretched his arms and spine up to the ceiling. He was aware both that his t-shirt had ridden up to expose the muscle he'd been working hard to regain, and that Stephen had licked his lips before very pointedly turning away.

“It's kind of disturbing how you know that.”

Stephen gave a disarming shrug. “I'm used to dealing with the university's paperwork. Somehow I just remember them.” He moved over to the coffee pot and raised his mug. “Coffee?”

“Sure, I could do with a break.” And if Ryan leaned a little closer to Stephen than was strictly necessary while he poured his own drink, who would tell?

“I think Lester's started making up the forms though. Some of them don't make a lot of sense.”

Ryan grinned. “My thoughts exactly.” He took a sip of coffee. Now was the perfect moment to ask Stephen out for dinner...

But as usual, the blare of the anomaly alarm interrupted his plans.

* * * * *

“Need a hand?” Stephen called. Ryan resisted the urge to hit his head against the roof of his car in relief. “Bad day, huh?”

“Justin's bloody gun jammed and he nearly blew his hand off, the new medic turned out to have forged his papers and I'm stuck in a muddy pile of...”

He tapered off as he realised that Stephen was laughing, and not just a polite chuckle, but a full, hands on knees doubled over laugh. It was the best sound he'd heard in years.

When Stephen straightened up for air, face still flushed, Ryan stepped forward, put his hand to Stephen's cheek and then the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss. For a fraction of a second Stephen didn't react and Ryan was worried he was ruining everything, but then Stephen was kissing him back and Ryan almost sagged with relief.

“My place?” Stephen asked, panting hard.

“You sure?”

“Aren't you?”

Ryan had no answer to that other than to pull Stephen into another, equally toe-curling kiss.

“Your place it is.”


End file.
